Absolutely Certain
by LizziLizzi5500
Summary: Arthur doesn't want to be king and runs away. Mentions of suicide. Merlin/Arthur pairing. Oneshot.


He has no idea what to do.  
For once in his life, Arthur Pendragon is completely dumbfounded. No, that's not right. He's lost and confused and scared and this close to losing it completely. So he runs. Takes his sword and sprints out of the castle, the citadel, the gates to the city, until he's surrounded by darkness and woodland and he's entirely alone. Slumping down on a bit of gnarled tree root, Arthur puts his head on his knees and begins to cry. He cries for his dead father, for the people of Camelot who grieve, and for himself. He doesn't know how to rule such a great kingdom. Politics, battles… he's been trained, of course he has, and he knows the theory - but what use is theory if you can't put it into practice? What use is knowledge if you're so messed up in the head and confused and worried and scared that you don't want to go back to your own city and be able to use it?

Arthur cries and sobs and screams until his throat is raw and he's sure there are no tears left to cry. Then he sits still as the sky darkens from sapphire to indigo to pitch black, staying in the same position for an hour, two hours, three hours, until he hears a small cough and a shuffling of feet in dry fallen leaves from just in front of him, an announcement of presence. Arthur looks up to see Merlin standing there, his face half illuminated by delicate moonlight, seeming slightly sheepish. When he sees Arthur's puffy red eyes and tear-stained face, Merlin's expression softens, and he tries to smile comfortingly. "It took me a while to find you. People are worried. I was going to ask if you were alright," he admits, "but you're clearly not." Arthur just shakes his head wordlessly. To his surprise, Merlin sits down on the forest floor next to him. "If you want me to go, I will, but if I were you, I wouldn't want to be alone." The dryness of Arthur's mouth and the stinging in his throat try their hardest to inhibit his speech, but he gets the words out all right. "Please stay."

So Merlin stays. Throughout the whole night, Arthur sits, and sometimes sobs and yells at the sky, and sometimes just weeps silently, and Merlin stays with him, and listens. He doesn't speak - Arthur doesn't need a conversation partner, just someone that he knows is with him in his darkest hours. He needs silent comfort from a friend who will be there for him, no matter what.

And when the first ray of sunlight breaks through the fragile autumn leaves, lighting up Arthur's hair with streaks of liquid gold, Merlin gets up. Arthur stands too, and stretches out his aching limbs, still stiff from the way he chose to spend his night. He looks over at Merlin, whose face is turned away, though the beginnings of a small smile can be seen playing on his lips. "Merlin." Arthur's voice is even more hoarse now, and he momentarily sounds like a hundred-year-old version of himself. He tries again. "Merlin." Merlin looks up, curiosity flashing in his eyes. "Thank you. If you hadn't found me, I wouldn't have survived - I don't know what I would have done." Merlin smiles properly at that, though his eyes are sad. "Glad to be of service, sire."

Arthur knows he needs to say something else, and he certainly knows what he /wants/ to say, but he doesn't know how to. Or how it will be recieved. "Merlin," he begins slowly, and Merlin looks up from the ground to stare deep into Arthur's eyes. "I know it really isn't the right time for this, but I feel as though I should tell you. I- I really care for you, Merlin. More than I probably should. More that is… normal for just friends. I feel like I want to be more than friends."

There, he's said it. And he feels absolutely terrible, even worse than before if that's even possible, a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach that makes him want to vomit. What if Merlin hates him? Arthur couldn't bear to lose him, not ever, and especially not now. He hasn't seen Merlin's reaction, but he can imagine it all too well. He has to fix this.

"No, wait, Merlin, I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did, I'm sorry, you must hate me, and I completely understand if you do, I don't know what I was thinking, I-" He stops talking abruptly when Merlin takes a few quick steps forward and presses a finger lightly against Arthur's lips. Arthur's heart skips in a way it never has in the past, even though he's been this close to Merlin many times before; maybe it's because Merlin is touching his lips, and in that moment, although he knows he really shouldn't, Arthur imagines a myriad of different ways to touch Merlin's lips with his own mouth, or with his fingers or his hands, and the thought of Merlin's mouth meeting Arthur's makes him almost dizzy with desire.

Somewhere deep inside him, Arthur finds the courage to look up at Merlin. Merlin is smiling softly, beautifully, wonderfully, and Arthur wonders if maybe, just maybe, things will work out okay. "I don't hate you, Arthur," he says, "I could never hate you. And if you really meant the things you said…" Arthur smiles as Merlin softly traces the outline of Arthur's mouth with his finger. It tickles, and Arthur finds himself almost giggling, although that's not like him at all, giddy with delight. "You may think me a lot of things, but a liar surely isn't one of them," Arthur tries to speak confidently, but his voice comes out as more of a whisper, at which Merlin grins. Arthur considers his plan of action carefully for a few seconds, and then decides to just go for it. He reaches an arm around Merlin's waist, thankful that he's standing so close, and pulls him towards himself. Then he crashes his lips to Merlin's, as though this is their last chance.

When he feels Merlin smile against his mouth, Arthur knows he's made the right choice. Their lips move in sync, and they fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Two sides of a coin. Merlin's hands snake up Arthur's back, sending cold shivers down his spine, up to his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands of gold. His fingertips brush Arthur's skin, and every touch creates a jolt, a buzz of crackling energy through Arthur. He deepens the kiss, darting his tongue out to graze Merlin's lips. Merlin moans softly as Arthur's teeth nick his lower lip, again and again and again, and when Arthur tastes a little of the copper of blood in his mouth he ignores it, because he knows Merlin doesn't care. And nor does Arthur. He's kissing Merlin, and Merlin is kissing him back, and he hasn't realised until now how much he needs this, but now he needs it as though it were the oxygen that keeps him alive. Merlin's presence last night had kept him from taking his own life, and now he's sustaining him again.

It could have been minutes or hours or days, or even just seconds before they break apart, but they do eventually, albeit reluctantly. Both are gasping for breath, Arthur even more so because he can't believe what he's just done. He can't believe that this is real life. He misses the pressure and the warmth of Merlin's mouth on his immediately, and he finds himself running his tongue over the inside of his lips, wishing, yearning for more kisses. When Merlin has regained his composure, he reaches out to take Arthur's hand gently in his. "You should know, Arthur," he begins, and somehow Arthur knows that this isn't just about the kiss, "that I listened to every word you said last night. All the pleading, the desperation. All of it. And I can promise you that you're not useless, or a coward, or unworthy, or in any way a bad person. And you should certainly never, ever consider suicide, not even for a second. You're everything a king should be: brave, compassionate, empathetic… you'll be a better ruler than your father ever was. And, if I'm wrong, you can have me publicly executed."

Arthur smiles at that, although he knows in himself that none of it is true. He'll never be as good a king as Uther was. He'll never be good enough. "Thank you, Merlin," he says, wondering briefly whether Merlin can tell he doesn't believe him in the slightest. But Merlin shows no sign of it. "Anything for the once and future king. My king." Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Anything? How about this?" Before Merlin has a chance to reply, Arthur pounces, knocking him to the ground so that he lies underneath Arthur. Arthur catches the beginnings of a smile as he dips his head to claim Merlin's lips again.

Their second kiss is even better, because there's no hesitance at the beginning, no wondering whether Arthur should or shouldn't use his tongue or his lips to show Merlin how special he is. Merlin bites at Arthur's lip, and Arthur moans aloud, because this is all he's wanted for the longest time, and it's absolutely perfect. His tongue moves into Merlin's mouth, tasting, wandering, exploring, marking the territory as his and his alone. Because Merlin is his servant, his friend, and his love. Merlin is his.

Merlin laughs as Arthur showers his lips with light, quick kisses. His mouth is soft against Merlin's, and it's amazing. "How long have you felt like this, Arthur? It's like you've wanted me forever," he asks, and Arthur sits back to consider. "A long time; maybe two years? Three? Almost as long as I can remember you being here." Merlin sits up next to Arthur, and takes his hand hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he wonders aloud, "we could have had so much more time together."  
"I was scared," Arthur confesses, blushing slightly, "of my father finding out, but more of your reaction. I would have died if I'd have had to look at you every day knowing you rejected me, or if you'd left and I never got to see you again. And anyway, why did you never mention it? You can't just blame me." Merlin looks away in shame, and Arthur is suddenly panicked for some reason. What if was just an act? What if Merlin was just pretending, and is now going to tell everyone?  
"Firstly, I couldn't very well admit to being in love with the crown prince, with me just being a servant," Merlin begins hesitantly, "and secondly, I wasn't… to be truthful, I didn't know I wanted you until you said it."  
Arthur's could swear that his heart stops for a moment. Does that mean that Merlin doesn't care for him? Merlin, realising his mistake from Arthur's expression, rushes to fix it. "It's not that I don't love you, I do, I really do, I just didn't realise it until now," he says quickly.  
Arthur's throat tightens. "Say that again."  
"What?"  
"You said you loved me. Say it again."  
"Oh." Merlin's smile is wide, from ear to ear. "I love you, Arthur Pendragon. With all my heart."  
Arthur's heartbeat is so thunderous, he's sure Merlin can hear it. "Are you sure?" His voice comes out as a whisper, not as the bold statement he meant it as. He holds his breath, awaiting an answer. "Absolutely certain."


End file.
